


Refusing to Sleep

by Deviant



Category: Graceland (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Light Angst, M/M, Multichapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-08 08:01:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1933107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deviant/pseuds/Deviant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike gets up early to go surfing.  Johnny follows him out there.  A series of snapshots in Johnny and Mike's relationship ensues.  </p>
<p>Written in 3rd Person, but Mike Centric.  </p>
<p>Set after the season one episode where Mike saves the man who had his hand cut off by cauterizing the wound, but really, there’s only brief mentions to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Mike still isn't very good at surfing. It bothers him a little bit, not being good at something. Graceland bothers him. Up until Graceland he had thought he knew who he was. Mike Warren- gifted, smart, charming. Now he was Mike, bodyguard to Nigerian crime head, watched a guy blow his brains out, lets a guy get tortured. He thought Abby could save him, thought she could anchor him and she could see the real him, but instead he just ended up scaring her away and getting into a fight with Paige.

He thought surfing would be a good idea, even if the sun was just barely up. Sometimes the best way to get over something is to take on mastering another task, one that requires all your concentration. As much as Mike wanted to concentrate fully on surfing, he mostly just ended up getting distracted and wiping out. He sat on his board, let the waves rock him, and felt the cold water lap at his stomach.

He couldn't believe he had come so close to Odin just to get choked out. He wanted to scream. He wanted out of Graceland. He wanted to be able to have a fucking facebook page.

“Yo, Mikey!”

Mike groaned and turned to look over his shoulder to see Johnny paddling out to him. He instantly regretted that groan. Johnny seemed so... happy to see him. Johnny was always happy though. He was like a puppy- playful, guilt free, flirty, so easily excitable and loveable. Mike figured Charlie was the only one who outranked Johnny in terms of love to give, but she loved in a different way, slow and tender and with understanding. 

Johnny reached him and sat up. He shook his head like a wet dog, but only a few drops of salt water scattered. He smiled a little too brightly, and then his smile seemed to fade as if he remembered what Mike had been through, as if he could imagine how Mike was feeling now. “Charlie told me what happened. You know, how you saved that guys life.”

Mike thought that that was rather generous. He had been trying desperately to forget that he was the guy that watched a man have his hand hacked off with a machete, and yet people were describing him as the guy who had saved a man's life. He smiled, weakly, he didn't know why he faked it. Maybe he figured it was important to show Johnny that he was okay.

“That's really messed up though, having to watch something like that. I have definitely seen some fucked up shit. I'd tell you it gets easier,” Johnny shrugged, “but you know, mostly it's like Paige's cooking- you just gotta swallow it. Even if it makes you sick, because the alternative is far worse.” He makes a motion with his hand like a gun is being held to his head.

Mike doesn't have anything to say. He looks down at his surf board. He can't help but think that he shouldn't have to swallow this, he shouldn't have to swallow Graceland. The plan was DC.

A hand reaches out and grabs Mike's thigh. He looks up at Johnny, who raises his brows quickly as if to ask if Mike is okay, except he knows Mike isn't okay so it's more like asking if Mike is on the path to becoming okay.

“You gonna catch some waves with me or are you just going to watch?” Johnny asks as he heads into the surf.

**********

Mike jumps the last three steps on the staircase and practically skips into the kitchen. He hums to his music, grabs a banana, thinks about it for a second, and then grabs another banana. He's about to run through the living room when he sees feet hanging over the edge of the couch. He slows down and walks around to see who it is.

Mike gets that it's early, but Johnny looks positively knocked the fuck out. A grin spreads practically ear to ear on Mike's face as he reaches down to ruffle Johnny's short hair, puppy is tired, he thinks.

“Mmmn...” Johnny sniffs a little and tries to roll away.

“Hey, hey, hey! You're gonna roll right off,” Mike offers.

“Where am I?” Johnny asks as he puts a hand out to brace himself in case he falls.

“Not your bed,” Mike smiles. He raps his knuckles lightly on Johnny's head. “Graceland, where else?”

“Mikey? Mm...” Johnny rolls over onto his back and blinks up at the blonde agent, eyes barely open to guard against the morning sun. “What a coincidence, I was just dreaming off you.”

Something gets stuck in Mike's throat. He looks around to see if anyone else has dared to brace the dawn like he has, but no one else is downstairs. He looks down at Johnny and smiles. The man lifts his arm up and throws it over his eyes like he's ready to go back to sleep despite the fact that he's so close to his bed. Mike catches sight of Johnny's tattoos and he can't help but like them. They look good on his tan skin. Mike has thought about getting a tattoo but he can't help but feel like it would ruin his pretty boy looks, and he can't pull off bad boy like Johnny can (despite the fact that Johnny is a goody boy down to his core).

“Was it good?” Mike asks in a whisper. For some reason he feels like he's trespassing, like he's doing something he shouldn't.

“Yeah, Mikey. It's always good when I dream of you.”

Mike disappears out the door and tries to run off some steam.

**********

Mike hates long undercover ops. Once you're in that deep with someone so big, well one thing he learned from Bello was that he would see things he never wanted to see. He much preferred playing a random in a short bust operation, it was over before he knew it, there was more predictability, and he liked having an end in sight. So he was happy to fill in on an op for Johnny knowing that the other agent would owe him one.

He liked running too.

So if logic holds up, today should be his best day ever because the short op was ending with a nice long run- a nice long run away from some very scary guys with very scary guns. He knew that there was always the possibility of things going wrong, be he still felt screwed that somehow tactical was too far away or slow or what have you and he was now trying to escape through alleys he was not at all familiar with. He was about to pass by a dead-end, too small alley when he felt a hand clasp over his mouth, an arm tight around his waist, and was being dragged into what he now felt was less of an alley and more of a crack between buildings. He elbowed the person behind him, heard a grunt, and then a familiar voice breathed into his ear.

“Easy, easy, Levi.”

Mike softened. He figured Johnny called him Levi to show him that it was one of his roommates and not an enemy, but it seemed unnecessary since Mike would recognize his voice anywhere. 

He knew to keep absolutely silent, knew that if Johnny was ducking them into alleys that the coast wasn't clear yet, but Johnny kept his hand firmly over Mike's mouth so that he couldn't speak even if he wanted to. Mike tried to slow his breathing, tried to reign in his heartbeat. He could feel Johnny's chest against his back, breathing hard, his breath flitting across the younger agent’s neck and ear.

The alley was small, barely enough room for one person, but now the two agents were pressed together. Neither one of them dared move in case they caught the attention of Mike's criminal search party.

Mike froze even more so. He told himself he was imagining it, that the bulge pressed up against his ass was a gun or something. He closed his eyes, no, no that was definitely a cock. He tensed. Adrenaline can have surprising affects on people. Fight, flight, freeze- those are the typical responses, but getting a woody wasn't exactly outside the realm of possibility.

He felt Johnny shift behind him. At first he dared to think that it was Johnny's attempt at friction, as if the other agent was desperate to grind his cock against his ass. More likely Johnny was aware of what his body was doing and was trying to move in such a way as to make it less noticeable. It wasn't working though.

They both heard tactical come on over the radio and say everything was clear, but neither one of them moved. If Johnny asked, Mike would say that he couldn't move because of the arm around his waist even as the hand on his mouth fell away.

But Johnny... Mike didn't know what his excuse was.

**********

It's hard to accuse someone of avoiding you when that person is an undercover FBI agent. Mike couldn't tell if Johnny was pulling a disappearing act or if a new cover was just demanding more of his time.

Still, it seemed like Johnny was hiding.

He didn't have a reason to be since Mike had pretended like the whole hard-on thing never happened. Mike forced himself to act totally normal, despite the fact that inside he was screaming for something, a sign from Johnny that what had happened didn't mean anything, or maybe it did, or something. Other than work related business, Johnny had barely said two words to Mike.

Mike growled. He didn't know what was worse, that his mind was consumed with thoughts of Johnny or that Johnny was avoiding him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This still takes place sometime in season 1. This chapter has more meat to it, because Chapter I ended with Johnny avoiding Mike. Sorry this chapter is later than I promised reviewers! Real life shit happened and I didn't have the time to finish it until this past weekend.

“Can’t confront him, can’t confront him,” Mike chanted between clenched teeth. Sweat had soaked through his shorts and his calves ached. Running on sandy beaches was great for building muscle and stamina, but Mike had pushed himself past the point of normal work out and into another territory entirely. One where he ran hard, trying his best to take his frustration out on the earth. He didn’t want to run, not really. He wanted to storm into Graceland, charge up those stairs and wrench open the door to Johnny’s room. No doubt he’d find the man passed out, happily sleeping away the morning.

“I cannot confront him,” Mike said, hoping that there would be a sort of finality to his words and his mind would accept that there was nothing he could do about the other man. If Johnny wanted to keep avoiding him that was his problem.

Mike skidded to a stop, almost flopping down into the sand. In his frustration he had run a little ways past Graceland. He turned around, casting a disgusted look at the ocean as though it was the source of his problems. He ran a hand through his sweaty hair and walked into the palace that both awed and annoyed him. He wasn’t even supposed to be in Graceland, let alone struggling with a fellow undercover agent.

“I think I hear Mikey now.”

Mike took a deep breath as he heard Charlie’s voice. It wouldn’t do to be angry and riled up around her. She would just want him to open up, and there was no nice way of saying “Johnny rubbed his hard-on against my ass and is now running scared.” Mike shook his head, saying something like that was also likely to get Johnny transferred since Mike couldn’t very well leave while he was investigating Briggs, and housing agents together who were reported to be fooling around wouldn’t fly. Not that he and Johnny were fooling around, but the agency wouldn’t care for an explanation.

“What do you think he wants? A gun?”

Mike hesitated on the top step. That was Johnny’s voice. So the bastard was capable of being in the same room as people. “What about a gun?” he called, even though it would still take him a while to walk to the kitchen. 

“Johnny’s making pancakes, he thinks you want one shaped like a gun,” Jakes offered, which was slightly surprising because the other man didn’t always take part in house festivities.

“Ah,” Mike offered as he stepped into the kitchen. Sure enough, Jakes was pouring maple syrup on his plate of pancakes and Charlie was leaning up against a wall eating hers. Johnny was, well, he was wearing an unnecessary black apron, the kind used when cooking at a grill, but other than that his long arms were bare and his tattoos flexed as he carefully examined butter melting in a pan. He didn’t even look up at Mike.

“You want anything in it? Strawberries, bananas, chocolate chips?” Johnny shot him only the briefest of glances as he asked him.

“No thank you,” Mike said. He tried to distract himself by looking though the refrigerator. “Where are Briggs and Paige?”

There was a pause, and then Charlie answered. “Briggs is still sleeping and Paige is working.”

“Figures,” Mike offered. He couldn’t really focus on holding a conversation though, couldn’t even focus enough to find whatever it was he was pretending to find in the fridge. How long had it been since the alley incident? And even as Johnny was cooking him a pancake he still couldn’t find the courage to look at Mike?

“That is not a gun,” Charlie said.

Mike grabbed the whipped cream, relieved that he had found what he wasn’t really looking for. He shut the fridge and turned around to look at Charlie. Her gorgeous lips were curved up in a slight smile, and Johnny was glaring at her as he tried to shoo her away from the stove. “Hard, straight lines aren’t that easy when your medium is batter!” he scowled. Mike couldn’t see the pancake from where he was standing, but from the way Johnny was moving the spatula around it looked like Johnny was trying to salvage it by cutting off sides or pushing batter where it belonged.

Mike didn’t care, but he was still mad and wasn’t about to rescue Johnny if the others felt like teasing him a little bit.

Jakes leaned over to take a look and then shook his head, chuckling, before looking back at his plate. Mike turned away and tried to suck in a deep breath. The kitchen air smelled a little burnt, like there had been failed pancakes before Mike had arrived. He could hear feet shuffling and wondered why everyone was set with eating while standing. Mostly though he wondered if this was the beginning of the end of Johnny avoiding him, or if this was just a brief reprieve and Johnny would go back to skulking tomorrow. Mike shifted his weight, his legs burning from the unusually long run.

Even if Johnny went back to ignoring him tomorrow, it wouldn’t matter. Mike wasn’t going to confront him. He felt too angry and stubborn to extend an olive branch when the entire debacle was Johnny’s fault.

“Yo, Mikey, here,” Johnny called a little louder than usual.

Mike turned around. Johnny was holding out a plate, but he was busying himself with something on the pan so that he couldn’t make eye contact with Mike. “Thanks,” Mike said, though he really wanted to chuck the pancake at Johnny’s head. He turned and left the room, whipped cream forgotten, and bounded up the stairs.

***

Mike realized a little too late that his legs were fucked up. They had been taking a surprising amount of abuse recently, what with Mike needing to run off more and more steam as of late. It didn’t help that distractedly thinking of Johnny and other problems while running meant that Mike wasn’t paying as much attention to his body as he should have, or that he hadn’t exactly done much for a cool down earlier that morning. He had gone from brutal running to lying in bed eating a pancake in almost no time at all.

And now his legs hated him for it.

He had taken a cold shower and was now on the living room couch. His legs were propped up on the coffee table and he had bags of ice and frozen peas on his legs. The TV was playing some documentary about how gold digging had changed California or something, but Mike wasn’t really paying attention. His head was thrown back over the back of the couch and he let out a painful groan.

Mike turned his head slightly when he heard a muffled laugh.

“I was a little afraid what I’d find going on in here what with a moan like that,” Johnny said as he rounded the corner and slowly walked into the room. He ran a large hand over his buzzed head and looked towards Mike with his dark eyes. A small grin was on his face. Johnny was wearing a wife-beater, or wife-lover as Mike had once heard him call it. Mike didn’t let his eyes wander any lower, he told himself he didn’t care what Johnny was wearing.

“Just me,” Mike offered.

Johnny ‘hmmn’ed and moved closer. “How did you fuck up your legs?” He moved to sit on the coffee table beside Mike’s outstretched legs.

“Running, not paying attention. Beginner mistakes, but they’ll be fine soon enough,” Mike said. Was this the most the two had spoken in weeks? A month?

“You made a mistake?” Johnny asked, head cocked a little. His voice was quiet, and had only the faintest sound of a tease in it, like he wasn’t sure it was safe to tease Mike.

“I know, it’s hard to believe.” Mike tried to shift his legs and then winced a little. Mike frowned. He didn’t want Johnny to disappear on him for another couple weeks. Mike didn’t need the man to flirt with him or pick him up when he was falling apart, but he at least wanted the other man around. At least so that he could talk to him occasionally. “I heard you’ve been working a lot,” Mike offered.

It was an out that Johnny could take. Mike could pretend like he hadn’t notice Johnny dodging him, and Johnny could pretend like he had just been caught up in a lot of cases.

And then they could go back to normal.

“Mmn,” Johnny replied, “but I should have more free time opening up.”

Mike nodded.

“You should probably rest those tomorrow,” Johnny said, nodding to Mike’s legs, “but then you should try swimming, or surfing – less muscle strain.” Johnny smiled and then stood up, heading for the door.

Mike couldn’t figure out if that was an invitation to surf with Johnny the day after tomorrow or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always happy to hear from readers, so don't be shy if you want to talk about the fic, show, or ship, :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Casual reminder that this fanfic is set during season 1.

 Mike wasn’t sure he could bring himself to get out of bed. He had yet to even try, which was hardly a good sign. He rolled onto his back, arms spread out, blanket haphazardly covering his legs and ran the tip of his tongue over the back of his teeth.

Another nightmare? They were occurring more frequently than they had ever before in his life. This one consisted of warped memories, and it had prompted him to give up his usual productive standard. The muzzle of a gun, smooth and hard, was pushed into his mouth, and a one-eyed Eddy peering down at him. The details of the dream were true to the event, from the way his tongue recoiled into the back of his mouth to the scratch of rough pavement against the back of his head. His lips and teeth wrapped around the lethal metal, scared, scared, scared.

In real life the moment had been terrifying, but short, yet in his dream time slowed down. Eddy leaned back, pulled the gun from Mike’s mouth, slowly lifted it and turned it on himself. In his dream Mike was frozen, held down by Eddy’s body, and that weight only got heavier as Eddy pulled the trigger and misted the air with his blood and brain.

Mike bitterly thought his subconscious deserved a medal for splicing together two terribly moments from his life into one disturbing package.

Though it disturbed him a bit, he parted his lips to mimic the way he had in his dream and in real life. He shuddered a little as he recalled the fear of dying that he had felt in that moment.

Definitely not a good day to get out of bed. He turned over on his stomach and pulled the blanket over himself, kicking his feet out so he wouldn’t overheat.

He forced away the last of the thoughts of Eddy and tried to replace them with something more pleasant. He considered Johnny’s renewed presence in his life, but it only reminded him of arms wrapped tight around him in that too small alley. A part of him warned himself that reading too much into what had happened wouldn’t do any good. He was here to keep an eye on Briggs, and to complete the operations he was given in the meantime. If he learned nothing else from his relationship with Abby he should have at least learned not to complicate his life at Graceland. The last thing he needed was to be distracted from his work.

He groaned and turned his face into his mattress, smothering himself for a minute. Footsteps padded down the hallway and Mike held his breath and listened closer to try to figure out who it was. He had expected whoever it was to disappear into one of the other bedrooms, but instead the footsteps stopped outside his room and someone rapped their knuckles on the door.

“Yo, Mikey!” Johnny called from the other side.

Speak of the devil, Mike thought, and reached for a pillow to pull over his head. He wasn’t surprised when he heard the click of the doorknob and the hinges swing open. Though he didn’t look, he could imagine Johnny leaning against the doorframe, taking in the sight of Mike lazing about. “I have a day off!” he called out, perhaps louder than he needed to since the other man was now in his room.

“I know, but you shouldn’t waste it in bed. Come on, let’s go to Hector’s.”

Mike’s could hear a slight serious note in the invitation. “Go away,” he groaned, willing his bed to swallow him whole.

Slight hesitation, but then Mike heard Johnny rouse himself from the doorway and take long strides towards Mike’s bed. Without any difficulty he climbed to stand on top of the bed, his weight sinking the mattress at Mike’s side. “As your senior officer, it’s my job to keep an eye out for you. Sleeping through breakfast and lunch doesn’t instill much confidence.”

Mike was a bit surprised that it was past lunchtime, but a movement near his armpit- Johnny’s foot shifting for balance he realized- brought his attention back. “Briggs sleeps late all the time.”

“Yeah, but it’s not my job to look out for him.” Johnny tested the springs with some light bouncing. “Plus, he’s not afraid to throw things at me.”

Mike flipped himself over quickly, careful not to tangle himself up in his blanket and sheets, and watched as Johnny tried to maintain his balance by crouching slightly. His gray tank top was perhaps too big, and gaped at the arm holes giving a view of his torso. Black shorts reached a little past Johnny’s knees and he was, thankfully, barefoot. “So if I start throwing things at you you’ll leave me alone?” he asked, careful not to sound actually annoyed.

Johnny straightened and then grinned down at Mike. He ignored the question and instead countered with “if I thought for a minute staying in bed would make you feel better, I’d let you, but I know it won’t. Besides, I’m hungry.” Mike watched as Johnny patted his stomach, the fabric of the shirt rippling under his touch.

Mike looked away. “I haven’t even taken a shower,” he muttered, practically conceding defeat.

Johnny snorted, “Granted, you may not look _this_ good,” he said, gesturing to himself and flashing a quick smile, “but you’re fine for Hector’s. Just throw on whatever.” Johnny turned, clearly feeling like he’d won the argument, and tried to walk down the length of the bed. His foot brushed against Mike’s side, and while it occurred to Mike to steal another glance at Johnny, or to kick out his leg and knock the other agent off balance, he did neither.

Uncomplicated, Mike thought. That needed to be his new mantra for his remaining time at Graceland.

 

* * *

“I can’t believe you almost burned Hector’s,” Johnny said, voice slightly wistful. He balanced his food on a plate in one hand while opening his bottle of water with the other. It was actually a little impressive that he managed to unscrew the cap and take a sip and rescrew it with just one hand and no spills.

“Are you and Briggs ever going to forgive me for that?” Mike asked. Looking around for a place to sit. On the opposite side of the street, a little farther down, there was a vacant bench. It obviously wouldn’t be vacant for long with so many people around. He was heading towards it and expecting Johnny to follow when Johnny nudged his bare arm with his hand. The water bottle he was still holding left a swipe of cold condensation on Mike’s arm.

“Nah, Mikey, this way,” Johnny said, turning down a large alley. Mike watched him walk ahead, eyes glancing at the muscles in Johnny’s shoulders before looking away. This had been the alley he’d initially chased the thief down when he had almost burned Hector’s. He frowned a little, doubting that the older FBI Agent brought him here to remind him of one of his rookie mistakes but not certain what other alternative there was.

He turned to look back at the other man only to find that he had stopped and was examining Mike with a thoughtful expression. Johnny turned to look over his shoulder, and Mike caught sight of the muscles moving in the other man’s neck and the way the sun reflected off the thin layer of sweat there.

Uncomplicated, Mike thought. Uncomplicated, uncomplicated, uncomplicated.

“You know where we are right?” Johnny asked, gesturing at the alley with his water bottle.

“Of course,” he answered, still wondering what Johnny had planned.

“Okay, so, I’ve been thinking,” Johnny said, shrugging slightly, “that you must be getting to that point in every agent’s career when they realize just how far they’ve come. Away from the academy, in the field, they figure out what it’s really all about and what it really means to do this job.” Johnny paused, apparently trying to figure out what to say next.

Mike listened to the words with as much seriousness as Johnny said them with, perhaps more. His breath was trapped in his lungs, as he wondered if Johnny was about to put into words what Mike had been feeling for a while now. That this job had changed him. That he had left Quantico a golden boy and now after watching people die, after being nearly killed, and after being powerless to stop so many horrible people he was hardly that person any more.

Johnny stepped forward, an uncharacteristic amount of concern on his face and Mike wondered how much of his inner monologue he had given away through his body language.

“We all change. This job changes us. I remember being in deep with this Latin gang and eating food with them one night and it just hit me. Here I was, eating dinner with gangbangers who kill people. Who rape people, who hurt people, whose product kills people, and I felt like I had fallen so far from that younger version of myself who wanted to be a Seal to save lives.” Johnny’s dark eyes narrowed slightly before relaxing. “I brought you here,” he gestured to the alley again, “to remind you that even when bad shit happens, you’re still that person, Mikey. That person who runs flat out to defend food vendors. You can’t be that person on the job, but that’s still who you really are.”

Mike realized at that moment that he had underestimated Johnny in some ways. Not the man’s kindness, or the lengths he’d go for his friends. Mike had had no doubt about that since Johnny was consistently kind and outgoing. The playful, flirty air about Johnny had masked the more serious side to him. It bothered Mike to wonder if he was perhaps easier to read than he was aware, or if Johnny was more perceptive than he let on. Something like anticipation and relief coiled in Mike’s stomach.

“Thanks,” Mike said. He stopped himself from looking away, although the oddly intimate moment begged him to.

“No problem,” Johnny said, moving away and looking towards the alley’s exit. “What are senior officers for?”

Mike refrained from grimacing. Senior officer. Right. As in agency, as in colleagues, as in work, and his new goal of a complication free operation.

**Author's Note:**

> There is a 20% chance that this fanfic will be abandoned. Comment or message me to check the status if you want more.


End file.
